


nothing but thieves

by orphan_account



Series: thieving sons of [1]
Category: One Direction (Band), Radio 1 RPF
Genre: M/M, i don't write smut, it's a bit angsty seeing as louis is dramatic, rival thieves au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-05
Updated: 2014-11-05
Packaged: 2018-02-24 04:39:45
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,692
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2568494
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Louis steals a cow and buys a crayon because Nick is annoying.</p>
            </blockquote>





	nothing but thieves

Louis can’t stop fidgeting. His eyes keep wandering away from Harry to track the people bustling around them, surprisingly frantic for a Tuesday in the shitty mall on the equally shitty end of town. He watches them pat their pockets, reaching for phones and wallets and all kinds of things his fingers itch to take.

It’s been weeks since he was able to find something good enough to keep, and even then Liam—the massive killjoy—made him leave his prize behind. Why does he even hang out with Liam?

“Are you listening to me?” Harry asks, and Louis heaves a hefty sigh as he attempts to focus on his friend. He manages eye contact for a grand total of five seconds before someone in a suit passes by. “Louis!”

Harry snaps his fingers in Louis’ face, something only he can do without getting the offending appendages crushed.

“What?” Louis moans. His eyes find Harry’s again and stay. He bites back a triumphant smile, but only because Harry looks Liam-level worried. “Did someone die or something?”

“No,” Harry says, pulling a face. “Just, I told you we were meeting up with Nick and you didn’t even scowl.”

“Maybe I'm happy today,” Louis quips. He grins and bats his eyelashes; Harry loses a battle against a smile. “Anyway,” he continues, shifting around in the stupid red metal chair, “I enjoy messing him. He never expects it.”

“Because you pretend to be nice,” Harry says, but he doesn’t even bother to act reproachful. Louis knows Harry also appreciates Nick being one-upped on occasion. Not as much as Louis does, of course, but few people can reach that level of satisfaction in their lives.

“Yeah, but you’d think he’d catch on after the first ten times.”

Shaking his head, Harry makes an obnoxious slurping sound as he finishes the last of his weird nutrient smoothie. His phone buzzes on the table—how impolite, Louis thinks, craning his neck to read the ID. Harry shoots him an exasperated look, snatching the phone before Louis can even consider trying to take it, and smiles down at the screen.

“Isn’t Ben your rich guy?” Louis asks, suspicious of Harry’s dimples.

“Yes,” Harry says patiently.

“And he’s, like, financially responsible for you now?”

“What are you asking me?”

“Nothing,” Louis says, leaning back to look at the mirrored ceiling. So stupid for a food court to have a mirrored ceiling. He frowns at his distorted reflection. “Just thinking.”

“That’s a surprise,” Harry says, just loud enough for Louis to hear. Louis narrows his eyes, considering maybe smacking Harry upside the head for that, but then he sees a familiar face amidst the masses.

“Why, Nicholas, what a surprise,” he greets with what is probably a manic grin. Nick makes a _cut it out, idiot_ face at him in response and drops to the seat beside Harry. He also looks at Harry’s phone, frowning a little.

“Who’s Ben?” he says. Harry huffs, shoving his phone in his pocket.

“No privacy,” he complains. Louis sits on his knees to reach across the table and pat his hair with a sympathetic frown. Harry bats his hand away. “You’re going to mess it up.”

“I have the right,” Louis says, haughty. “I'm the one who did it.”

Nick looks over Harry’s curls, the top half done in a braid down the middle, and raises his eyebrows at Louis. “Didn’t take you for the braiding type.”

“I'm good with my hands,” Louis replies. Nick opens his mouth to say something, probably stupid and annoying, but Harry cuts him off.

“If you two are finished,” he says, standing. “I have a mark to meet.”

That’s why he was smiling. Louis crosses his arms and sends his best glare to his traitorous friend. Maybe he should spend more time with Zayn instead of Harry. Zayn would never treat him like this.

“I just got here,” Nick protests. Harry only smiles and flounces off. Nick slumps in his chair, one arm on the table while the other rests on the back of Harry’s seat. He observes Louis with a slightly unnerving gaze. Louis straightens in his seat, frowning back at him.

“What?” he asks, only a little defensive.

“Nothing,” Nick says. “Guess we’ll have to entertain ourselves, then.”

“What makes you think I'm going to hang around with you?” Louis replies. His knees are starting to hurt. What idiot decided these stupid chairs should have a waffle pattern?

“You usually do.”

And. That’s true. Every time Harry ditches the two of them, they tend to stick around until things get too heated and then Louis leaves before he punches Nick in the face.

“Well,” Louis says, dropping his feet to the floor with considerable effort. “I want to walk around.”

He snatches up his own smoothie, delightfully unhealthy, and marches off toward the stores. Nick catches up to him easily. Louis glances at Nick’s long legs and scowls. The world is an unfair place.

“Stolen anything good lately?” Nick asks pleasantly.

“No,” Louis says, still scowling. Really, really unfair. He watches the people around them, eyes flicking from face to face. No one looks rich enough. He has a moral code, after all. Unlike Nick.

“That’s a shame,” Nick says. He sounds genuine.

Louis shrugs, though he’s getting more and more restless the longer thinks about it. He veers into a chain store full of weird knick-knacks and bites the straw sticking out of his smoothie cup. Nick walks beside him through the shelves, pointing out the truly ridiculous items, like a fire engine red cow figurine.

“Didn’t you have your hair that color once?” he asks.

“Maybe,” Louis says, poking at the cow. It has huge black eyes and is completely useless. He wants it. Nick rolls his eyes when the cow disappears into the front pocket of Louis’ hoodie. Louis shoves past him to look at a shelf full of porcelain crayons.  Who knew there was such a thing? “Don’t you roll your eyes at me, Nicholas.”

“You have the stupidest collection of _stuff_ I have ever seen.”

“Haven’t you ever heard of the phrase ‘to each his own?’”

Nick reaches around Louis, almost flush against his back, and picks up a crayon that Louis can only describe as radioactive macaroni. He plucks it from Nick’s loose grasp and heads to the register. It costs him five bucks, but he thinks the incredulous look on Nick’s face is worth it. The guy just doesn’t understand the need for trivial things. Considering he steals TVs and jewels every week, it’s not that surprising.

Louis leads the way back out of the store, adrenaline coursing through his veins as the little alarm at the door sounds. He turns and holds up his bag, feigning confusion. The cashier waves him away.

“Impressive,” Nick says sarcastically. Louis bares his teeth in something passable for a smile to anyone who might glance over at him.

“Let’s see you do it then,” he challenges.

“Why waste my time?” Nick replies.

“You’re boring. I hope you know that.”

Nick scoffs. “I'm boring? You’re the petty thief here.”

“Who now has a bright red cow, thank you very much.”

“And an ugly as fuck ceramic crayon.”

“Oh no, that one’s for you,” Louis says, patting him on the arm. “I didn’t want you to feel left out.”

“You know what,” Nick starts. Louis has no idea what he should know, because Nick ducks down and kisses him, right in the middle of the mall. He inhales sharply through his nose, slightly alarmed. One of Nick’s hands lands on the back of his neck, and he thinks, what the hell, and kisses him back.

Of course, before Nick can get the wrong idea, he grabs Nick’s other hand—the one that was trying to sneak into his pocket—and traps it against his side.

Nick pulls away first. If Louis didn’t know any better, he’d think Nick looked flustered because he’d kissed back. Since that’s obviously not the case, he smiles and releases Nick’s hand.

“Nice try, kitten,” he says. He sounds off, voice wound too tight around his vocal cords. It doesn’t mean anything.

“Back to the kitten thing?” Nick replies.

“Are you _not_ still calling yourself a cat burglar?”

They’re standing too close to each other, but Louis isn’t about to be the first one to take a step back. He watches Nick open and close his mouth, the corners of his lips twitching.

From the depths of his ridiculous trench coat, Nick’s phone rings. Louis clears his throat quietly as Nick jumps back to dig it out, looking at the stores around them without really seeing them. Whatever Nick reads gets him to frown.

“I have to go,” he says, locking and unlocking the screen. He almost looks apologetic.

“Then go,” Louis snaps. Now that Nick’s made the first move to get away, he backs up himself. He hits a vending machine and nearly jumps; he didn’t know he was that close to the edge of the floor. “Like I need you for entertainment.”

Nick gives him a look, one Louis can’t quite decipher, and walks away without a word. Louis makes a face at his back and gets a disapproving look from some woman that passes. It takes a lot of restraint not to flip her off.

Continuing through the mall, Louis attempts to calm himself down. Sure, Nick’s always gotten under his skin. The man is a complete tool, it’s impossible not to get annoyed. But there’s this annoying gnawing sensation in his gut he can’t shake away.

He tells himself he’s not disappointed Nick had to go, he’s not angry they finally moved past the stupid bickering for a minute only to have it interrupted, and he definitely does _not_ want to kiss Nick again. Unfortunately, Harry is the con artist, and Louis can only lie to himself so much.

His impulses get the best of him, as usual, and he ends up with a variety of cheap jewelry, key chains, and pens from cups by cash registers stowed away in his pockets. He still feels like shit.

**Author's Note:**

> it's just snippets really but why not


End file.
